Baby In The Trash {A Poetic Short Story}

Secrets once though to be long dead come back to pay Antoinette a little visit.

Antoinette was pregnant and nobody didn't know,
she hid it all through school but in the end; she didn't go,
she's 14 and she's scared of what the future maybe brings,
since there's no source of income she can't purchase baby things.

The baby's father bounced and said the baby wasn't his,
but he had other kids; it's safe to say he wasn't s**t,
so early on a Sunday's when the pain within her lap,
was born and she said "f**k it"; put her baby in the trash.

The newborn couldn't breathe fresh air amidst the garbage bags,
there wasn't no nutrition in the midst of all that trash,
his body undiscovered for a season; summer passed,
while Antoinette went on as if these things were nothing bad.

The years went by now Antoinette's all grown at 29,
she had a man, a nice career and things were plenty fine,
she didn't have the troubles in her life she'd think she'd have,
til late one night her nostrils whiffed of something stinking bad.

Her man worked on the graveyard shift so she was all alone,
his cell was on her nightstand so she couldn't call his phone,
as Antoinette moved in her hallway; rapid pace of course,
she suddenly discovered that the basement was the source,

of where the smell was coming from; she thought to check it out,
descending creaky stairs her heart beat loud from chest to mouth,
and what she saw down there her eyes refused to take it in,
her baby as she'd left him wrapped that day inside the bin.

His face still soft and pink though 15 years had come and gone,
until it started changing; Antoinette sensed nothing wrong,
but what she witnessed shocked her and it totally exposed,
emotions as she watched the baby slowly decompose.

The flesh which started pink began to turn a messy gray,
then stretch across the facial while it curled to melt away,
the child then stood; the blanket fell revealing only bones,
the jawbone of the skull dropped to emit a homely moan.

"Your life is going good I see well mine's a chance to pray,
you took me out the game before I had a chance to play,
you left me in that garbage bin to rot amongst the trash,
so listen to these jewels that I'ma drop upon your a*s,

You'll never have good luck in life for what you did to me,
yes things are presently all right; that's God just kidding thee,
cause you will pay for what you've done; it may be in the past,
but karma's ugly when you leave your baby in the trash."

The skeleton dissolved into a wave of smoky mist,
while Antoinette blinked heavily and couldn't focus since,
her mind was in the process of derailing from the track,
while crashing with her conscience; and she wasn't coming back.

Her dude came home and found her huddled on the parlor floor,
her eyes were lost and distant like she'd just been off to war,
but when she saw his face then hers lit up with instant joy,
while muttering some nonsense bout her long dead infant boy.

It went on like that see cause Antoinette was off the wall,
like Mike so ol boy put her in a place with softer walls,
and that is how she spent her days; in Greystone playin coy,
forever to be spooked by a decaying baby boy.

©2013
The Cunning Linguist

Author's Note

This is the very first short story poem I ever wrote in Summer 2013.

Reviews

[Frieda P]

Wow just WOW, like getting slapped upside the head....! I don't usually read stories but this was amazing!